Friday, February 27, 2009

Awards: Regrettably My Last Cerimony!

Call me an elitist snob, or fill in the blank with some other derogatory title, but I will be stepping out of the bloggy awards spotlight as gracefully as possible.

I am finding the time constraints in writing two blogs forces my hand in this situation. As I focus my writing on very specific topics for TAG and I sincerely enjoy my personal topics on this site, my time allocation is totally maxed out. I have no more time! Likewise knowing most everybody has similar time budgeting issues, I will not be sending out awards to anyone in the future.

I appreciate with no little gratitude the awards bestown upon me in the past few months. The ladies from who these awards have come are among my favorites and I visit each often, in fact most daily. Thank you for sending these my way and I want to recognize the kindness of each of these blogger's.

From KJamama and DiPaola Momma,

The rules for the Honest Scrap award: The honorees are to: A) first list 10 honest things about yourself - and make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep! B) pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you feel embody the spirit of the Honest Scrap. See above.

1. I am a closet hypochondriac. I keep this well under control through extensive self counseling.

2. If I feel dirt or sand or other particles on the floor it freaks me out so much that I am constantly sweeping the floor.

3. I wore three sets of wheels off my roller blades my sophomore year in college skating back and forth between home and campus. It was about three miles each way. I wish I was as fit as I was then...

4. I played serious, competitive intercollegiate volleyball in college. After I finished I have not played since.

5. When my kids toys get mixed up it bothers me. Also, it took me about a year until I could let the kids combine different colored play dough together. The "gray matter" still irritates me but I have to let some things just go.

6. I skipped a grade in elementary school and went from 5th to 7th. I would absolutely not let my kids do the same thing. Academics were easy, but an additional year of socialization would have been to my immense benefit.

7. I quit working for my last employer due to unresolvable ethical differences. I worked for this employer for 10 years prior. When I quit it was a huge relief.

8. When I was in Jr. High I used to steal my brother's bike to go to my friends house. That was really mean of me.

9. The interior of my truck is a mess of gigantic proportions. It is my filthy little secret. It is where I am a secret slob. The toys, food wrappers, clothes and other miscellaneous garbage inside the back seat would astound you.

10. Since I have not been writing for a living for the past six months, blogging has been a most enjoyable change for me. Instead of writing technical, scientific reports I am writing creatively. I am dreading the phone calls to begin "real work" again.

Bonus Number 11. I refuse to shave my legs all winter long. Not until my husband threatens to divorce me will I cut the forest below my knees. I rather miss my leg hair all summer.

This "sweet and sour"award came from KJamama, Michele, and Kendra.

Do you know that special blogger that somehow finds a way to make lemonade out of the lemons life hands them? They are that certain blogger that is grateful for what has been given to them in this life?

This award was really appropriate since I made a trip to a nearby winery and they let us take as many lemons off their trees as we wanted. Coming home with two bags of lemons we actually made lots of lemony things including real live fresh lemonade at the time this award was passed to me about 1 month ago!

I am thinking that I have made symbolic lemonade out of my lack of work and turned my creative forces into writing this blog and starting The Apron Goddesses. This is my true application of lemons to lemonade in my life for the present!

And from Red Pine Mountain:

Thank you Red. This award has no strings attached and is a lovely symbol of friendship without reservation!

Finally, I am awarding myself this button. Go ahead and black list me. I am not afraid...well maybe just a little. But I hope that all the fabulous people I have met blogging and who's sites I regularly visit understand this one. I found it on Penniwig's Free Graphics Daily so I did not come up with this concept in my own little nut shell. By the way...she has several more styles to choose from. ;)

Thursday, February 26, 2009

An Interview With Wyatt

I saw this cute kid's interview at Farm Dreams and had to play along. My victim was of course my amiable son Wyatt who is 4 years and 6 months in age. I guess I could really call this "Wyatt Week."

1. What is something your mom always says to you?

Wyatt - "Don't say bad words." (Pretty accurate here! And bad words include:poop, fart, funk as in "funk in the trunk." There are times when he uses these words every other word like some men use the F word. This must stop!)

2.What makes your mom happy?

Wyatt - "Smiles."

3. What makes your mom sad?

Wyatt - "No hugs."

4. How does your mom make you laugh?

Wyatt - "Smiles."

5. What did your mom like to do when she was a child?

Wyatt - "Be a farmer." (Huh?)

6. How old is your mom?

Wyatt - "Five....I have no idea. TELL ME!!!" (For the record-38.)

7. How tall is your mom?

Wyatt - "REALLY tall." (5'11")

8. What is her favorite thing to do?

Wyatt - "Um, ummm, give the horses some water." (Where do they get these ideas??)

9. What does your mom do when you're not around?

Wyatt - "Take a nap." (Not really....usually I have Ella!)

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?

Wyatt - "I don't know."

11. What is your mom really good at?

Wyatt - "Cooking dinner."

12. What is your mom not very good at?

Wyatt - "Making the horse pastures clean...The ones that are really big." (Translation: the pastures are 3/4 of an my defense, I can't possibly clean all the sh**around here!)

13. What does your mom do for her job?

Wyatt - "I don't know." (I currently am employed in child care at a house of insanity.)

14. What is your mom's favorite food?

Wyatt - "Veggies." (Nice...evidently I am giving a good example!)

15. What makes you proud of your mom?

Wyatt - "Makes dinner, fixes toys."

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?

Wyatt - "Wendy." (From Bob the Builder.) I can take that.

17. What do you and your mom do together?

Wyatt - "Play at the sand pile."

18. How are you and your mom the same?

Wyatt - "Cause we're people."

19. How are you and your mom different?

Wyatt - "Cause my mom and dad are bigger and we are littler."

20. How do you know your mom loves you?

Wyatt - "Cause she gives me kisses and hugs and lugs and polymugs."

21. What does your mom like most about your dad?

Wyatt - "Riding dirt bikes."

22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?

Wyatt - "Ann's for a hike." (I backpack Ella and take Wyatt on a march around my neighbors trail in the hills.)

Monday, February 23, 2009

Decode This!!-Part II

Following in the path of Maricris at Zen Ventures I am giving you another DeCode puzzle to figure out this week. These photos are related in some way. Your mission, if you chose to accept it, is to decide why these seemingly unrelated objects are grouped together and how it occurred. Please examine the following pictures closely.

Photo No. 1: Brown micro suede couch and a fine gage cheese grater.

How did this essential utensil from the kitchen find it's way into a the back seem of the couch and why are there tracks streaking across the fabric? Why does it appear there is a pocket on the back of this couch? Was this some ill-fated attempt to rejuvenate the surface which is covered in children's snot, cat hair and miscellaneous food particles?

Whoever employed this tool was creating circular patterns, somewhat like crop circles, on the back of the couch. This must mean the aliens have been to my home recently.

Or are they still here?

Photo No. 2: White touch tone receiver phone resting on oven door connected to the silver wear drawer.

Hello....Hello.... Anybody there?

Satin is it you? Is this the direct line to the hell? Does anybody down there need a knife or maybe a spoon?

Dark lord of fire and brimstone are you there?

Is this where I make the collect call to Dante's Inferno to sell my soul? Or has somebody in my house already made some bargain that I'm not aware of?

Oh Crap...We are doomed!

Photo No. 3: Deer antler suspended from girls padded clothes hanger, dangled by red shoelace, from a bunk bed.

Did a deer get attacked by a princess wearing satin? And WTF happened to her shoes? Can you wear a pink satin dress and red sneaker? Somebody better call the fashion police and quick like.

Is this some strange demonic wind chime? Hold On....That only applies to goats right?

Is that the ladder to heaven or hell? Wait, we covered the "dark underlord" in the photo above...

Damn, this one is just so random I can't even make it up any more.

Photo No. 4: Child doing push ups on kitchen table with super gripper-feet clasping back of couch.

Is this a super child or a freak of nature? Does this kid have to do push ups to get fed? How long can he stay like that? Is this some demented form of punishment? Or does he do this just for fun? I just don't know...

So what have you concluded from Photos 1 -4 above?

Art work for the insane?


Well not really. You must know where these are leading now....These seemingly unrelated pictures are all tied together by one individual. It is my four year old son, Wyatt.

Some kind of genius or just simply crazy in the head, some days I can not decide what to think about the fruit of my womb. All of the objects pictured above are Wyatt's creations and/or the activities he finds enjoyable in his spare time.

I don't know where he finds the inspiration for his abstract art forms since he usually occupies his days at home with:
  • Giving himself haircuts while hiding in the closet,
  • Sneaking sips of Dad's left over beer off the night stand,
  • Peeing with no hands, flooding the floor behind the toilet,
  • Occasional naked bike rides through the creek, and
  • Mandatory snuggle time with his green blanket while sucking his thumb.
That about sums it up for my little boy. But then I find the stuff I have featured in the above photos.

Meet Wyatt up close and personal.

Sweet, innocent, adorable in a still frame but.........

Bonus Picture: Screaming child perched in an open window.

Mom says kindly, "Oh, Son of Mine please for the 1 millionth time get out of the window."

Wyatt says tauntingly, "NOOOOOOOOO!"

Mom says with slight annoyance, "Really, please get out of the window. You're gonna fall and crack your head open."

Wyatt says emphatically, "But Mom, I climb in and out of this window from outside all the time."

Mom says totally pissed off, "I DON'T CARE. GET DOWN NOW!!!"

Wyatt says rebelliously, "OOOHHHAAAAGGGHHH!!!"

Mom says with futility, "I bleeping give up...."

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Terror in The Cemetery

The two young girls were running with every ounce of speed that their 12 and 14 year old bodies could muster. They were breathing so heavily that screams were impossible as they ran across the gravestones which were flush with the carefully manicured lawn in the cemetery. Reaching the end of the grass, they bolted across a dirt field like two fillies chased by a ghostly Beucephalus with nostrils engulfed in flames.

Their safe haven was in sight. The small wooden shed located at the bottom corner of the field, west of the cemetery, would shelter them from him. They flew into the dusty one roomed building and slammed the door shut, bolting it quickly. Heaving with burning lungs, they bent over sucking in huge gulps of air and waited.

A few hundred feet behind the panicked girls was a furious boy, approximately 11 years in age. The little red-haired, freckle-faced demon ran determinedly after them, brandishing a huge carving knife while screaming a war cry. He meant to do some harm of one kind or another.

He cleared the neatly organized gravestones and crossed the dried grass field in a b-line for the shed. He was determined to get his revenge. As he approached the little shack that housed the girls, he screamed and cried in anger. Then repeatedly stabbing the door, with an over-the-head ax-murderer attack, the boy vented his frustration on the wooden barrier between he and the girls.

Meanwhile, they were cowering inside the creepy shed listening to the bludgeoning coming from outside. Why was this brutal attack from a mere child occurring? I don't really remember what specifically provoked it. Yes, that was me inside the shed. That is, me and Julie, my husband Mike's older sister. The shed was spooky enough by it's self and the kid yelling for blood outside was no more comforting. When would the attack end and when could we get out of there?

Sadly, I don't recall just how everything unraveled. It was a eternity ago in dragonfly time. I lived to see another day. Obviously.

You see, this is my first memory of my husband-to-be. Lovely is it not?

Somehow, we aggravated that little boy, my future husband, to the point he wanted to kill us. Literally kill us. Recollection of the events makes me think Julie was the primary instigator. I was extremely shy and not one to start a fight, so I could not possibly have been responsible for igniting the display of rage I have just described. I think I was simply a willing accomplice to the alleged torment.

However, should I have taken this as some warning sign? They say that love is blind. Or just plain stupid in some cases... So was I influenced to marry him 21 years later out of fear for my life or just plain love? Again, I'm not dead yet.

These days Mike's temper is under control and he does not chase me around our property with over-sized cutlery. So, why gentle reader have I provided this quaint and heartfelt tale of love and affection?

This chronicle is to commemorate the celebration of my 5th wedding anniversary with my dear and loving spouse. Today we have been married 5 years. Cumulatively, we have been a couple for slightly over 12 years. Debbie at Suburb Sanity inspired me with her story on how she met her spouse; and I thought that my first memory of Mike would be a touching way to acknowledge our union.

After a long engagement period of 7 years, Mike and I got married in a quiet elopement in Monterrey, California. That is after he trapped me. Yep, you guessed it, I became a "little" pregnant. We (I) decided that we had to be married as to not give his parents an early heart attack or some other unspecified conniption fit. His family would not handle the thought of a child out of wedlock well. They're kind of old fashioned that way. Because we were already the "bad seeds" and shacked up, we had to become legal and make our union official.

My relationship with Mike and his family spans back many years to my early adolescence when I was a gawky 12 yr old in 8th grade who wanted to have a horse. I bought, Candy Bar, a buckskin quarter horse from Mike's mom back when satin dolphin shorts, polo shirts, and top sider shoes were really popular. Hence, Mike and I knew of each other since we were kids. And I use the term"knew" rather loosely here since I was friends with my mother-in-law before I even had a glimmer of her son as my future husband. I used to have sleep overs with Mike's older sister, Julie, and keep my horse at their house. Julie and I rode our horses through the hills like wild she-women well before I ever thought of him as anything more than just her bratty little brother, Maniac Mike, who chased us with a butcher's knife. Any thoughts beyond that of would not occur for at least a decade later.

And about the cemetery...Mike's dad was the on-grounds manager of a large Catholic cemetery that was surrounded by 120 acres of open space. They lived in a 100-year old Victorian near the cemetery grounds. But that is the stuff for another story here on Our Simple Life.

Happy Anniversary Micheal!

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Rain and Puddles

The rain has finally begin to fall in California. A gray flannel blanket has cloaked the sky and water is falling from the heavens again. It's about time.

As I walk out to follow the kids around in the lighter showers, my go feet squish-squash-squish-squash through the muddy grass when I cross the seasonal creek that bisects our property. The children like to wear their mud boots and walk up and down the ephemeral stream pretending their fishing. One can hardly call it a "real" creek since water only moves through the shallow swale after the of heaviest rains. There is no bed or bank, only a topographic break where the slopes from east and west meet. If you came to my house in the summer running water would never come to mind.

When it starts to rain I always have a mix of emotions.

First I feel excitement.

The water will make the dormant seeds swell and it activates enzymes to start the germination process. Tiny white sprouts emerge and form roots in search of damp soil. A sliver of green pokes it's head from the seed coat searching for light. This will be a blade or a new leaf reaching for the sun. The growth process begins. Green grass means happy horses.

Then there is another part of me that worries when the rains come.

I have never been able to shake this oppressive feeling since I worked a stable manager when I was in my late 20's. For two years, I managed a barn of 21 horses perched on top of a hill in the mountains in Saratoga, California. My apartment was over the horses stalls and the storms would bash against the A-frame roof, heralding Armageddon. I could hear the horses walking in circles below on the wooden floors of their cells...

From afar, the barn looked like a little Swiss chalet with multicolored horse heads sticking out from all the windows. But it always felt precarious. There was an active hill slide on the property and when the rains began it was only a question of how long until the earth began slipping. Then there was the worrying about things getting wet. The hay and the shavings under their massive tarps always loomed behind me. If a tarp blew loose it meant wet feed and wet bedding. Two winters of this was enough to leave me with shadows of these feelings every time a storm hits us now. Even though it is now almost 10 years later and there is nothing in jeopardy of being ruined, these thoughts still linger. It's like these memories are mud stains that will never wash out of my mind.

Water is a time for patience.

As I slosh across the saturated earth in route to feeding the horses during the storms, I feel the heavy raindrops pelting my head through my hood. There will be no turn out in the fields or riding in the arena for a while. All things horse go quiet. After three or four consecutive days of rain, the horses hunker down in their stalls. Occasionally, I see them peeking their heads out their doors while they watch the rain fall. Gemma and Sharpie stand motionless counting each raindrop as it hits the puddles in their paddocks. As the water collects on their long and wispy forelocks, it forms a miniature streamlet which eventually drip-drop-drips on to their long broad faces. Silent horse thoughts float up between their soft velvety ears. They don't really seem to mind the rain.

Water is elemental and I observe our very nature.

Puddles are where life begins anew every year. The puddles that form along our "creek" are host to western toads when they feel amorous in March. The small pond I constructed next to the creek is where Pacific chorus frogs sing their symphony every evening once the rains fill the basin. The men repeatedly call loudly to the ladies, "Hey girls! We're here...Yo babe, check me out...Look at me, I have a" Small bands of Mallard ducks will drift down the slow current then waddle around the water's edge and muddle for insects. And the noisy little killdeers scurry around the saturated ground pecking for insects just below the surface. It's a veritable orchestra for my ears and eyes of which I never tire.

Here's a few moments from the frogs. They're skittish and get quiet as soon as they suspect me nearby. I love to hear them singing though. Here you go "Frogs in Your Formula." You should be liking this one.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

I REALLY Would Love to Win $250.00 From Target!

I was out and about surfing and saw this fabulous giveaway for a gift card from Target for an astounding $250.00. Who would not want to win this one. The way to enter this contest at Barking Mad is to do a post with 5-10 links to your personal favorite posts from your blog and link to her using Mr. Linky.

So here goes in no particular order (Well, I lie a little...I think #1 is my favorite. The others are in no particular order):

1. Love, When You Least Expect It.
2. The Chicken House
3. When Roosters Attack
4. Within the Winter's Darkness
5. How Much is Lasagna Really Worth?
6. BAD Mommy
7. I do NOT like Daylights Savings
8. The Naked Trees

Please enjoy this recap of the best of "Our Simple Life."

Courtesy of:

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Happy Valentine's Day!

When I went out yesterday morning to feed the horses, I looked across our valley and saw this:

OK so not a big deal to a lot of you out there, BUT where I live this does not happen very often!

With the rains and snow came some large puddles on our property, especially where the seasonal creek runs through the pastures. One casualty of the lazy ass kids was observed. Or maybe somebody sent the monster tricycle for a "ghost ride" into the creek. Regardless, this poor trike needed rescuing... I think I like the clouds that are not in the sky.

Enough photo essays for a while. I got to get back to writing again!

Friday, February 13, 2009

Just Another Day with the Horses

Ella keeps me company and helps me clean the horse stalls pretty much every day. She meanders in and out of the paddocks and chit chats with me about what's going on. She has her own wheelbarrow which she must sidle up to my big wheelbarrow so she can load up with manure. Then because she is turning into a "big girl" she goes and dumps it out at the big pile "All by self."

Ella Trots off on a personal mission for horse credits.
She even has her own little mud boots (size 8 seems so tiny) to tackle the dirty jobs...
Mike Rowe where are you now?

Yep, she's got this dumping thing all figured out...

Having done enough manual slave labor for one day it was time to abandon this chore... I keep telling her she can't have her own pony until she can take care of it properly. I guess she doesn't want one bad enough yet. But I know she's got something else on her mind.

"Later Mom!" Then she took off running...yes that is actually a picture of Ella running. Funny how babies feet don't seem to come off the ground but they get where they want with some magical quickness.

"Hey Ma, I got to go and get some thing really important."

"That's more like it! Now this is what I call fun."

But keep your fingers out of that horses mouth gosh darn it!

"Hey, Where did you go?"

Gemma wants to know, "Why did the little midget with grass leave and how long it will be before she comes back to feed me?" She longingly looks out her stall door to the greener pastures which are off limits since it's just been raining too much. If the horses go in the fields when they are saturated they end up rototilling the soil with their feet. It makes a huge muddy mess... So it's lock down for now. The warden has spoken.

Gemma can always hope for Ella's kindness.

Ella will probably earn her self a pony yet... Well maybe when she's five. But she's got a few years more to go.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Potting Acorns-How to Hatch a Tree Part III

It was time. Time to plant the acorns we collected in How to Hatch a Tree during the fall. For the past few months they (the acorns) have been cold stratified in my fridge. We knew it was time to plant them since all the white roots have emerged as shown in How to Hatch a Tree Part II. I prefer to put the newly hatched acorns directly in the ground, but it began raining here... With the earth to mushy to work in we had to pot them so they will keep growing properly. Sometimes compromises must be made.

First we filled the pots with a good well draining potting mixture. The pots are all cast offs from the local nursery. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle... We used a bag of "special" Miracle Grow potting soil, but any kind will do. We packed in the soil compressing it so it was firm, but not too tight.

Next we poked a hole deep enough to place the newly emerged root in the soil mixture. Then we carefully pushed the soil around the root.

During the proceedings, Lucky the cat, watched us from a baby valley oak tree in the yard. He obviously has a job as a supervisor on our property. Add in the occasional mew for direction and we got the job done. (I have never seen a cat scaffold trees the way this one does. He's gorgeous to look at and an incredible climber.)

Finally, after carefully planting each acorn at the surface of the pot and burring the long tap root we lined them up for a photo op. I think they like the publicity.

Now we get to wait some more for the emergence of the first few baby leaves which will spout from the apex of the acorn in about 2 months from now.

All this work for native valley and live oak trees, but it is worth all the effort. Replanting native trees is the biologically correct way to go. They grow best in the local climate, are more disease resistant, and make great homes for native wildlife.

Grow baby oaks, GROW!!!!

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

DeCode Wednesday

Today, I'm Joining Maricris at Zen Ventures with Decode Wednesday. This is a game where your pictures are not quite what they seem. You're supposed to "decode" what's really going on. So here goes...

Gentle Children-Start Your Engines!!!!

Let the Dump Truck Races Begin...

With a steely glint in his eye and a wheel over the staring line, Wyatt aims to win. Meanwhile, Ella's looking for her pit crew...

Here are my kids running a muck with their dump trucks loaded up with toys. They do hot laps like Nascar drivers up and down my tiny hallway and skid recklessly across the kitchen floor leaving black tire tracks that are almost impossible to remove. Add in the careening into the cabinets and chairs, and this is just a load of fun.

Ella's in the lead! Go Baby Go!

With these joyful events, my children are capable of screeching at decibels levels that deafens all the dogs in a one mile radius of our home, so it's no wonder that the ringing in my own ears reflects premature hearing loss. I also think dolphins start beaching themselves on the coast when Wyatt yells at pitches inaudible to the human ear drum.

But what else am I to do when it is raining outside?? I just let the half-lings frolic like they've eaten 14 bowls of sugar coated hyper pops.

But wait... What is this? Do you see what I see? Is there something shiny in the bed of these trucks? Is it an oasis? A mirage? Be it silver colored? Be it a beverage of some kind or another?

"Aha!" you say... You are becoming enlightened. These dump truck races are actually a formulated and premeditated............
"Parental Beverage Delivery System."

This is the only way for parents to endure the indoor crash-up derby. I think Daddy Mike can have the first beer. I'll get a fresh one from the fridge...thankyouverymuch!

Mystery Solved

Monday, February 9, 2009

You're Not Lost...

Hi Everyone,

My site and I have not been abducted by flower loving aliens. I am fine and well. However, this is my new background for 2009. My husband Mike has been saying that my old tree was too "spooky" or "gloomy." But even before he made these insightful comments I was already working on this. Hope you all enjoy the new look. It still needs a little tweaking to get it just right! But this is pretty much it.

FYI. The flowers are from my landscaping!

Bye for now,

Friday, February 6, 2009

My Husband is Strange

My husband is known to say some outrageous thing but tonight was a doozie. I really need to start carrying around one of those mini digital voice recorders so I can get some of our conversations down exactly because I don't think you folks out there would believe what I have to put up with sometimes.

No really, I exaggerate not.

While sauntering out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth Mike says, "Twaaaa...Twaaa." Acting sort of like a peacock with his bare chest exposed. Mind you he was wearing jeans. (This is after all a PG rated site.)

Seated at the couch with laptop in hand, I'm all, "WTF is that about. That's not even a word." I am used to his senseless banter. He likes to say anything to get a rise out of me. He takes it to a sporting level... I always try to maintain my impartiality with his attacks and I wanted to finish my work on the computer.

I am like Data on Startrek: Next Generation, blank face, no expression. I wish I could do the pasty white skin but on a moments notice it is just not possible...

Unphased he struts over to me with all of his 6 ft tall, 160 lb body, and while rubbing his almost hairless chest says, "Don't you like my man breasts? I think they're growing some hairs around them. Do you want to suck my nipples???"

I am strait faced. Basically mute. Any response to his statements is encouragement. But then again sometimes when he gets no response he ups the ante. So I'm thinking, "What to do...What to do."

"You barely have three chest hairs to rub together, so how could you possibly have nipple hairs now?" Unfortunately, I said this. Do not play the game I told myself. I needed to shut up quickly.

He goes on, "You know there are many women out there who would love this kind of attention."

I respond cooly, "You've been watching too much of the 'MANswers' on Spike TV again haven't you. I need to program the DVR to block that damned show..." Then I recalled that I heard the "Manly" commentator with the football announcer voice talking about the Australian Navy paying for breast augmentation for their female soldiers while I was doing my best to tune out the program... I need to start wearing ear plugs or other OSHA approved hearing protection while we're sharing the same space. It's no wonder he's thinking about breasts, but his own nipple hairs????

"You're just cold as a witches teat, my dear and loving wife of many years," he banters back undaunted.

"You know I have a weapon in my lap right now." I pull out my ace of spades since this was looking like an emergency situation. But then I was treading on dangerous grounds. "I'm gonna start writing this on my blog."

"Well if you post this the ladies may just start chasing me down now won't they," he responds with a charming smile. Then he throws in, "You know, (long pause) I think the tooth whitening toothpaste I bought is really starting to work too."

"Please, please just go to bed." I respond with maintained neutrality.

At this point he migrates into our bedroom. Lights out and silence ensue.

Poker face and high card, I won this game of cards tonight.

Purse Tag

Juicy Alligator tagged me with what I shall call, "Let's see your purse!" I am sort of cheating since I posted this on my other blog, but please do not flog me. Get it flog-blog, blog-flog...ha ha right?

For the sake of fun and picture essays which are always easier, here you go:

Rule No. 1:

1) "Post a picture of whatever bag you are carrying as of late. No, you cannot go up to your closet and pull out that cute little purse you used back before you had kids (Ha! Good try...). Show what you carried today or the last time you left the house."

This should tell you: pragmatic, boring, simple, unfashionable...shall I go on??

Then Rule No. 2 is post a picture of the contents inside your bag. The theory here is that you can learn a lot about someone from what is in the bag... oh, and you can steal mommy secrets...

Go ahead you voyeurs. Get your jollies here. This is VERY exciting. The junk inside consists of a little plaid wallet, leather checkbook, stamps, phone, sun glasses... All again practical items. I actually had cleaned out the receipts from the past two weeks about two days ago. And NO I did not cheat.

Finally, the real reason I own this purse: STRONG TODDLER TOTER. Ella can sit on the purse while I walk anywhere without breaking my back. Wide nylon shoulder strap distributes her weight very well and her butt can't ruin the purse itself!!!

I am passing this onto the following charming ladies who need to show us what they are carrying around as their "luggage," or "duffel bag," or "back pack." That is, only if they choose to take the challenge.

PJamama (I know I owe you still...Aggghhh!)
Frogs in my Formula
Savy Suzi
So Not Mom-a-licious

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

One Year Older and What Do You Get?

I'll give you one guess what yesterday was...

Well maybe two guesses are appropriate here...

Notice little glittery things in my ears...

Yep! It was my 18th birthday! Ha Ha...Only kidding.

I had a great day. My husband brought me the first bouquet of red roses and some twinkling ear rings. I got spoiled buy the second floral arrangement from my Mom.

I want to say: Thank You Mike. I love you!

Mom-Your flowers are beautiful. I love you!

We celebrated an adult dinner on Monday night (birthday eve) at my friends house and had a great feast and a surprise chocolate cake!

Thanks Rose for a great meal and company!

It was a great birthday for me. In the morning I took the kids to a nearby trail. I jogged pushing Ella in the stroller and Wyatt rode his "Major Damage-Magma" bike. We cruised down the paved path adjacent one of the major creeks in our region. The riparian vegetation is tall and there is a developed under story so many native birds and animals can be seen.

Wildlife is abundant in this area. While we were on our trek "we" spotted a golden eagle flying about 300 feet away from us, it's hulking wings look like they go on forever. It flew over us and went to perch in the sycamore trees lining the creek channel.

Next we watched a coyote make it's way through the grasslands and meander along the paved trail near the creek. Sitting still in the shadow of a tree we spied on the coyote for about four minutes and whispered about what he was doing.

Also, we spotted a doe and a yearling fawn grazing in the grasslands adjacent to the trail. I observed many of my woodland friends flittering in the tree tops, dashing here and there, and looking for food.

All in all, we traveled by our own motors about 4 miles and Wyatt biked the whole way without any trouble. It made me proud!

It was a splendid day no matter how you slice it.

I woke up today and looked out the window and was like WTF!!!! I called Mike immediately and he explained.

Can you say Uh-Oh!

Ooops. My dear and loving husband left for work this morning at about 3 a.m. With a cloak of darkness covering the earth he did not see the automatic gates closing while he was waiting to enter the road way and voila! Instant pretzel. This is what happens when the gate closes on your trailer and you drive away. Artistic, modern, forward thinking art work if you ask me.

BTW. Brother-in-law, Jeff, called Suzi in hysterics over this incident, so at least somebody got some enjoyment out of this disaster...

Guess who gets to drive down to buy a new gate...ME.

Just one more day in my simple little life...

The Day the Swallows Came Home

The tree swallows are here already.  They arrived January 30 much to my dismay.  Swooping and calling and chirping their merry song over my ...